Date: Fri, 1 Aug 2008 16:21:11 +0000
From: Steve Thomas
Subject: Growing up Joshua - Chapter 1
Growing up Joshua
This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings,
beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might ot
be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between
males, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too
young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story,
shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters:
Joshua Alan Black II
Barbie Warfield -- my mother
Dennis Warfield -- my stepfather
Wilma Warfield -- Dennis's mother ("Missy" to m)e
Francis Warfield -- Dennis's father -- ("Sir" to me.)
Alva Benson -- my Gram (Grandma)
Iver Benson -- my Pop (Grandpa)
Prologue
I hated my step-father. I hated my father. I hated my mother. I thought
I hated my life, but I guess I didn't because -- I'm still here.
I don't hate any of them any more. But growing up Joshua was not anyone's
picnic. My dad died before I was born. That was enough for me to hate
him. If that seems a little harsh, maybe it is. But growing up Joshua,
love was absent so hate filled the void and was -- needed -- for me to
survive.
My mother was dating my stepfather -- planning to be married to him. She
was 19 and Dennis was 31. He had never been married, and really -- didn't
want to marry my mother. But his family was pressuring him. Being 31,
Dennis was much experienced and worldlier than she was. And this impressed
her.
Dennis's family was rich, and he was part of the family business. It was
getting uncomfortable to his parents always having to explain why their son
was not married -- and to some who took notice -- why he didn't date much.
So he got the ultimatum: marry or find another job. Dennis was not very
clever and any other job that he might find would be for a tenth what his
father paid him, so -- he told my mother that since she didn't have any
other prospects - - they might as well get married. Nice way to propose!
Dennis was sent on a business trip -- two weeks -- to another state -- 2
months before the wedding date. In her defense, Mother had no intentions
of meeting the dashing young man at the church dance that her friend lured
her to.
Mother's friend, Nan, didn't like Dennis and cajoled her to come to this
dance, so she (Nan) would not have to go alone. When they got there, there
just happened to be a guy that Nan knew (who turned out to be her
boyfriend!) who also had a friend.
Nan's boyfriend's friend, Josh Black, was on the second week of a 2-week
leave from the Navy. He met and was taken by my mother, and asked if they
could maybe go for a walk the next day. That walk turned into a week long
romance, where mother had decided that her marriage to Dennis was not going
to happen.
After a tearful goodbye and promises to wait and such, Mother watched as
Joshua's military transport took off from Mather Air Force Base. As she
left the parking lot, she heard the faint explosion. His plane had gone
down in some nearby rice fields. Everyone on board perished.
I don't think Mother ever got over Josh's death. She told Dennis of her
indiscretion while he was gone. He said he forgave her -- not telling her
about his own shenanigans with several guys he met at a Bakersfield rest
stop.
Neither of them at that time knew about the tiny organism that was forming
in Mother's uterus. Mother started getting sick -- on their wedding day --
and was sick all through their two-week honeymoon in the Bahamas. They
went to a doctor there. He announced the blessed news to the newlyweds:
She was pregnant.
Problem was -- because of her sickness, they had not consummated their
marriage yet. They both knew that it was not Dennis's and they both knew
that it was Josh's baby.
Dennis could have easily had the marriage annulled, but what a perfect way
to mask his sexuality and not have to do the dirty with my mother.
So, Dennis did the "charitable" thing and stayed, garnering the approval of
his parents, while assuring their hatred fro her. He would raise the
bastard as his own, but -- he refused to adopt me -- and further, would not
allow me to even take his name. That was the first gift he gave me. So, I
was named after my biological dad: Joshua Alan Black II.
At the tender age of 8, when I was able to push out of my little anus a log
as big as Dennis's smallish penis, he knew that he would not hurt me
physically. And he didn't, always careful to use lots of lube.
I knew what he was doing was wrong. For one, he threatened me to keep it a
secret. But I am convinced that we all have something built in that goes
off when something terribly wrong is happening. Even if we like it --
which I was ashamed -- even at 8-years-old -- I did.
Oh -- and did I tell you? I hated myself too.
Dennis's family kept us well heeled. They knew why Dennis and Barbie were
never blessed with other children, but no one talked about it. In defense
of his parents, I don't think they ever could conceive of his doing his
little boy.
Gram and Pop -- that's what I called my mother's parents -- were the only
thing close to love I had. It's not that they didn't love me -- or love
showing me -- but they were in Minneapolis and we were in Sacramento. Gram
and Pop were not rich, but mother took me to see them four times a year: my
birthday, Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.
That was fine with Dennis's family. His mother had all she needed:
something to brag about him: In his largess he took care the wife's
bastard. Dennis never visited his in-laws -- ever. And it was made
abundantly clear that they were never to suppose they should meet his
family.
I used to plot how I'd like to see them all die -- even my own mother. I
can see now that she wasn't the brightest bulb in the warehouse. I can see
now that she was more the victim than anything else. I have long since
forgiven her. I have even forgiven Dennis. His bulb was somewhat dimmer
than mother's.
If I knew more about what made Sir and Missy (That's all I was ever allowed
to call Dennis's parents), I might be more easily forgiving to them. I now
know that there is always -- always -- always -- a reason for people's
hatefulness. It's harder to forgive when you don't know their
vulnerabilities. And I wasn't able to be close enough to find out theirs.
Dennis was the youngest of three sons. His closest brother was six years
his senior, and was the closest thing I ever saw to love in their family.
He doted on Dennis. Barry was no nicer to me than his parents, but he for
whatever reason loved his little brother. So my cousins, Ray, Raul and
Richard were regulars at our house.
Dennis was abusing Richard before I was born, just as he did me --
stimulating and pleasuring his genitals and fingering his anus -- getting
him ready - - .
Richard was his favorite before I was big enough to fuck. But with me just
at the other wing of the house, Dennis didn't have to wait for Richard to
visit any more.
When Richard came to visit, even though there were 3 other bedrooms in the
house, Dennis gave the one adjacent to mine -- to Richard. My bedroom
shared a bathroom with that bedroom. I couldn't hate Richard. He was only
12 and I sensed that he didn't know any better. He was my pal. He always
brought me something nice to play with -- something he bought -- when he
came to visit. But the thing I liked to play with the best -- even though
I STILL felt guilty -- was his body. Richard was the second thing Dennis
ever gave me that I was grateful for.
The first time Richard came into my bedroom, thinking back on it, I think
he was just barely hitting puberty. He already had a dick larger than
Dennis's, but no pubic hair yet. His smooth cheeks -- no facial hair --
were heaven to me. I was nine when he was 12. Dennis told Richard that I
was like him, and we made friends instantly.
He didn't like what Dennis did to him either, but was afraid to tell anyone
-- for fear someone would suspect he liked it -- which, like me -- he did
-- like the act, but -- not that it was forced on him.
Richard was effeminate and young acting -- which made me even more
comfortable with him. That first night, he was almost shy about touching
me. After a year of Dennis's touch, I was not so shy. And unlike Dennis
-- he didn't make fun of my pre-pubescent little dick. He said it was fine
looking dick, with its long, uncut foreskin and the interesting goo that
was inside it.
Richard was cut and he had never seen an uncut penis. He was mesmerized.
"You wanna touch it?" I taunted, our first night together.
"Can I? Does it hurt?" he said as he pulled down the hood.
"That tickles!" I said, giggling.
He touched the goo on the head. "Ew!" He said. I frowned. He brought it
up to his nose. "Ew!"
I was about to cry, when he put it on his tongue. "That's gross -- can I
have some more?"
I don't think he saw the humor in that, but -- even at nine -- I did and I
laughed. He took that as an okay and he squeezed and swiped his finger and
thumb all the way up the wet shaft, catching most of the smegma there. He
put both fingers in his mouth, and his body seemed to shake.
"That's pretty gross, Josh, but look what it did!"
"It's Joshua." I said and I looked and his boner was squirting out some
thin milky stuff. I was well aware what cum was. I had eaten plenty of
Dennis's. But again I giggled when Richard's piss slit glistened. I
reached out and with one finger spread it around his glans -- and was
rewarded with another spurt.
At nine years old I already had a taste for cum, and I immediately -- for
the first time -- took Richard into my mouth. If I liked the acrid taste
of Dennis -- I LOVED the sweet taste of Richard. His diet must have been
better than Dennis's.
I was a 1-year veteran to sucking Dennis by my first time with Richard, and
as I did it, he said that Dennis had never sucked him. I wasn't surprised.
Dennis never had sucked me either. But I knew to play with him and to
tease him, as taught by my step-father. He was begging me to finish it by
the time I relented and did. He told me that he loved me and that he would
love me for the rest of my life -- before he went to sleep.
I was somewhat disappointed, but also know that this could happen when an
older man spent himself. I could bang my wang to orgasm 6 or 8 times and
not feel tired. Well, okay after the ninth time, I did go to sleep that
night.
We both woke up when something crashed outside. It was the trash
collector. "Hi Josh!"
"Good morning -- and its Joshua.
"Aw, c'mon! Everyone else calls you Joshua. But THEY don't love you like
I do. I want to call you Josh -- pleeeeeeeeze?"
I frown-smiled and said, "Well -- okay -- if you suck me off."
"Can I?" He said excitedly. And he did it. When the dry orgasm came --
he just kept sucking. I always stopped when the orgasm came. I was afraid
to do it any longer because of the intense feeling. But He had his hands
and arms clamped around my butt and kept sucking even though I protested.
That's probably `cuz my protest didn't last longer than 3 or 4 seconds,
before I was taking deep breaths and exhaling forcefully. For the first
time, I felt tired after and didn't want to move for a few minutes. That
was the first time I had experienced a complete orgasm, and the night
before was the last time I stopped early. After that, at least for awhile,
I banged myself every time no one was looking.
But that wore off and I started looking forward to seeing Richard. He came
about once a week after that, for the next two years. Well that's not
quite true. He VISITED about once a week -- and while he visited, he came
many times during each visit.
About 3 months after Richard started coming to spend the night, I asked him
boldly why he never wanted to fuck me.
"That's what Den does to me -- and you too -- isn't it?" he said.
"So?" I said.
"I don't think I wanna - "
"I want you to!" I said. "Pleeeeeeeze?"
That was all it took. He loved doing it -- maybe as much as I liked it. I
was too small to do it to him.
Richard was my savior. It took a 12-year-old to teach me how to love. As
my love for him grew -- my hate for the others faded. It didn't go away
for a long time -- but it faded and wasn't so intense.
When he turned 13, Richard asked me -- if -- for his birthday -- I would
kiss him. "Wouldn't that -- like -- make us -- like married -- or
something?" I said.
"If I ever get married -- I want it to be with you!" He said. His voice
cracked and we both laughed. "It's been doing that a lot lately. Mom says
it's changing. Will you still love me if my voice gets like a man's?"
I looked into his eyes. There was actual worry in there. "Will you still
love me?" I said.
"Of course. I told you that I'll always love you!"
I frowned. "Dennis tells me that when he fucks me." I said.
"Oh. I know. He tells me too. But -- I'm telling you -- when we're NOT
fucking!" He grinned.
I was confident that he would always love me and I let Richard kiss me for
his 13th birthday.
Six months later, for my 11 birthday he gave me a nice Nintendo card and
later asked me if maybe I wanted to fuck him for my real birthday present.
"We've tried that." I said sarcastically. "It doesn't work."
"Josh -- it's bigger -- I can feel it in my mouth. Try it --
Pleeeeeeeeze?"
Well, that was our code for -- you better not say no! I had to at least
try it.
That was the best birthday present I ever had. It was also the first time
I remember having a wet orgasm.
"Josh! This is huge! Now I can finally taste you for reals!" We were two
of the most in-love teens ever -- for the next six months.
When Richard turned fourteen, he was sent to a prep school in Boston. We
were both heart broken -- as any teenager could be.
Dennis seemed mad too and I figured out why. He mostly liked little boys.
When I started to grow and spurt the real thing, he had no one else to turn
to. Oh he still fucked me, but he was always angry and rough when he did
it and -- he never again told me he loved me.
I became otherwise celibate after Richard left. By "otherwise" I mean
other than Dennis. He fucked me at least twice a week, and I -- fucked my
hand at least 70 times a week -- each and every time thinking about
Richard. After taking up wrestling, I started to buff up some, and Dennis
seemed to like that even less.
Chapter 1 -- Prep School
I never considered going to prep school. By the time I was 14, I'd given
up insisting on being called Joshua. It was like that last thread of
Richard I had left. I was Josh Black -- the black sheep -- the
bastard. And the more I grew, the more embarrassing it was becoming
explaining to people about me. Missy and Sir were able to ignore me when I
was a preteen, but as I grew, it was obvious that I was looking more and
more like my bio-dad. Compared to the almost Cro-Magnon looks of the
Warfield family, I was like a movie star. And I have to say -- I wasn't
unpleased at how I looked in the mirror.
"Who is the gorgeous young man in the corner, Wilma?" One of her friends
-- or a business associate would say. She could no longer ignore me. Men
didn't seem to notice as much. But Missy felt a need to get rid of me.
When I heard I was being sent to prep school, I got all excited. "Oh,
Missy! Thank you so much!" I actually hugged her! "You don't know how
much I have missed Richard!"
She got a disdainful look, extricated herself from my embrace and then
smiled sweetly as she twisted the knife, "Oh -- you didn't really think
you'd be going to that fine a school -- did you?"
I was being sent to a military school in Delafield -- a suburb of
Milwaukee. I was devastated. Tears filled my eyes and if a look could
kill, that priggish woman would be on the floor at my feet!
Of course Richard and I kept in contact with emails and an occasional phone
call, but he was now 17 and I felt like he was slipping away from me by the
week. I had heard about prep school dorms and how "some boys" found their
way to other boys' beds. But it never occurred to me that that could
happen in military school barracks.
Mother drove me all the way to Wisconsin in a rented convertible. I was no
dummy. I suspected she was trying to make some amends. And I wasn't going
for it. I hated her and everything she stood for -- especially that she
stood for her husband doing anything he wanted to me. During the 3-day
drive, I resisted softening as she repeatedly apologized for being so weak
and letting Dennis dominate her so -- and of course - - me!
The night before we arrived in Delafield, after we went to bed, she came
and knelt by my bed in the dark. She gently placed her hand on my arm and
patted it. She stroked my forehead and cried. "I really AM going to miss
you, Sweetheart. Won't you PLEASE tell me that you forgive me -- for not
protecting you?"
"Why don't you leave him now, Mother?" I said coldly. I expect I probably
called her mommy at some time, but I don't remember it. I don't remember a
lot of my life from one-year-old to nine. I think I must have blocked it
out. Children do that so they don't have to remember the bad stuff.
She wailed sobbed and when she was able to talk again, she said, "I can't
do that, Honey. But I may kill myself if you don't tell me you forgive
me."
"That'd be dramatic, wouldn't it? Then Dennis would get what he wanted.
He can live his life out as a widower, and just find little boys to satisfy
him." I stated without emotion.
"Please, Joshua. I won't ever ask another thing. And -- also -- whether
or not you do -- I'll always love you and -- really -- not blame you. And
you will always get your allowance -- even if you leave me like this. I
haven't been a good mother. I just -- can't leave. The money -- the
prestige -- mean too much to me. I'm too used to them. Please say it --
even if you don't mean it."
It hit me at that moment. There was my out! And -- I could see -- she was
right. She WAS weak. Much weaker than I was. At least maybe I could TELL
her she was forgiven. She also knew what was going on with Richard and me
-- and she didn't stop that either. Maybe I could find a way to - - .
"Mother -- Mom - " I started and that's when the bottom dropped out for me.
It was I who now fell apart, crying and sobbing. "I DO forgive you, Mother
-- MOM! Can I at least call you that?"
"I wish you had all these years, but I didn't earn it."
I turned and hugged her closer than I could remember.
The next morning we drove the 2-hours to the school and she stayed with me
for final registration. I felt better when I saw a few other guys with
their moms. But I drew the line at her helping me to my barracks room. I
dragged my three suitcases into the entry, then went back to say good bye
and hug my mother. When I came back, there were three guys -- BIG guys --
in sloppily fitted uniforms, going through my open suitcases.
I yelled, "Hey! Whatta you think your doing?!"
"I don't think," said the biggest guy, "I KNOW what I'm doing!"
I replied, "I don't THINK you know what you're doing EITHER! Get the fuck
away from my stuff!" I quick-stepped to him.
"What the fu - ?" said one of his buddies. "Are you gonna let this fag
talk to you like that, Percy?"
I looked at that guy and said, "Pussy? His name's PUSSY? And here I'd
pegged YOU as the pussy of the group!" He swiped at me with his paw. I
feinted left and I easily pushed it past me and elbowed him hard in the
side. He went down like a lead zeppelin.
"Hey!" said the bigger guy, "You think you're shit with your judo crap?
Your life's not worth a fuck! Get up, Rodney!" He yelled at his downed
buddy.
He charged me and I stepped aside and jabbed him in the kidney with a side
kick. He went down in agony and barfed up his lunch. With my training, it
all seemed to be happening in slow motion, as I watched green liquid and
nearly un-chewed pieces of meat spew out of his mouth and on to the floor.
Number three bruiser was on me like -- well, like a narwhal on a shark, I
guess. By the time I dispatched him the other two agonized themselves back
to a stance and came at me again, one from each side of me. Again it was
like slow motion, as I stepped back and grabbed them both and helped them
meet each other -- forehead to forehead. And to top it off, Percy's
superior weight class sent Rodney falling back and his knees buckled
sending one of them careening into Percy's nads, which ended up with Percy
falling on top of Rodney -- in the missionary position.
With the three of them groaning on the floor, one on top of another, I
said, "Who's the fag now?"
"You're dead meat!" Said the one I found out later to be Murch.
"Yeah, like I'm the one rolling in barf on the floor!" I said, as I closed
the last of my suitcases and turned my back on them. I turned back once
more and said, "And it's Taekwondo, dickhead!"
As soon as I dragged my stuff around the corner, and saw a hall, with
multiple doors, I was somewhat relieved. I had seen enough boot camp
movies where everyone slept in one huge room. I set one of my suitcases
down and another guy quickly grabbed it. Before I could respond, he said,
"Can I help you with those sir?"
I stopped dead in my tracks and gawked. A guy about a half inch shorter
than I, maybe 6'-1", also dressed in a uniform, but it was fitted perfectly
to his very athletic body, smiled at me. "Thank goodness someone came that
is a match for those idiots." He said. "I would have helped you, but you
seemed to be doing fine. I'm Nathan -- Nathan Willows. I'm barrack
monitor. I also am part of the REAL welcoming committee."
"Joshua Black."
"Great to meet you Josh. Call me Nate. You cool with being called Josh?"
"Heh! I used to hate it -- until my boy -- erm -- my -- I mean -- one of
my boyhood fr -- erm -- my best cousin decided to call me it."
THAT was awkward!
"Tell you what:" he said, "I'll call you Joshua until such time as you know
I'm your friend." I started to tell him he was obviously already my
friend, when he added, "What cell are you assigned to?"
"Cell?" I said. "Oh!" I looked at my room assignment slip. "Room -- er
- cell 215."
"Uhh -- no! You're not going there." He said matter-of-factly. "That's
where Percy, Crabbe and Goyle reside." A Harry Potter fan!
He flipped out his cell phone. "Another reassignment. Put Mr. Black in
105. I am aware of that Randy! And stop trying to fill that last bed in
215! No -- no more in 105 unless -- yeah -- well you should by now!"
He walked down to the middle of the hall, stopped by a door, set down my
bag, and reached into his pocket. He fished a bunch of keys out of his
pocket and inserted one into the lock, opening a door, and tossing me the
key. As he was about to pick up the bag, his phone rang. He tossed the
bag into the "cell" and said "I'll probably see you a little later. Got
another newbie to settle -- or maybe rescue. Seems to be a lot of midterm
registrants this term." He walked away.
I called after him, "You need any help?"
"Naw -- they won't mess with me."
I walked into the room and turned around. It looked sterile. Two bunks,
made up tightly, with perfectly creased sheets and gray covers, graced the
sides of the room. Straight gray curtains flanked the high window and the
walls looked antiseptic. In either end was a door, which upon closer
inspection I was disappointed were both closets. No bathroom. I opened
the room door and looked both ways, then saw it: "Latrine" said the sign. I
really had a bladder full, so I grabbed my key and headed over to the
latrine.
As I opened the door, a toilet flushed and a smallish -- rather cute, red
headed boy -- maybe 5'-6" tall and I guessed 120 pounds at most, came out
of a stall. He blushed when he saw me, and looked down.
"Hi -- I'm Josh -- ua Black." I said, deciding mid-sentence that I liked
the idea of only my friends calling me Josh again.
At fourteen, my voice was still cracking from being almost changed. His
was much higher as he extended his hand, then jerked it back. "Sorry, sir,
haven't washed my hands yet. I'm Rudy." I stepped up to the farthest
urinal from the sink where he washed his hands. There were no dividers
around the urinals, and I was never one to try to hide myself. I mostly
looked at what I was doing, then at the shiny white wall and the flawlessly
polished plumbing in front of me. But the once that I glanced over, I saw
him quickly avert his eyes. I smiled to myself. Other boys are always
comparing.
As I finished up my business, Rudy was drying his hands. Again he blushed
as I walked toward him and turned on the water in the sink. "What room are
you in, Rudy?" I asked.
"106."
"Oh! Right next to me. I'm in 105."
"Actually it's across the hall," he said apologetically, "and -- you are
lucky!"
"Well, I agree with you there! I AM lucky to be across the hall from a
cool dude like yourself."
I had learned well the art of flattery. It was essential to survive in my
family -- if you could call it that.
He blushed deeper than ever and as I dried my hands, he said, "I meant you
are lucky to be in 105. You're cellmate is awe -- I mean -- well, I think
you're gonna -- um -- that is -- he's cool!"
We walked silently to our doors and he said, "See you at mess." At my
furrowed brow, he smiled and said, "Dinner."
As I walked in to my cell for the second time, I looked around and none of
the beds looked like they'd ever been slept in but -- I noticed that one of
the bunks -- a bottom one -- had a suitcase under it. I guessed that was
where Mr. Cool slept. None of the others seemed to be occupied. So I
chose the bottom bunk opposite Mr. Cool.
There were drawers set into the wall, flanking each closet. I chose the
side closest to my bunk and unloaded my suitcases into it and into the near
side of the closet. Twin desks were set at the head and foot of each bed.
I was about to flop down on my bunk when I dashed across the hall and
knocked. Rudy came to the door. "Oh -- hi!" He grinned and opened the
door wider. He was down to white boxers and a tee.
"I was just wondering -- what time is dinner -- er -- mess?" I said not
accepting his implied invitation.
"Evening mess is at 5:30 sharp, sir." He said.
"You don't have to call me sir."
"We have to refer to anyone older as sir. I am sorry for my earlier
indiscretion. Sir."
"I'm fourteen." I said.
"Sir -- what? What? No shit, sir? I mean -- um -- Josh-ua." The little
fucker had said my name exactly as I pronounced it when we met.
Quickly sizing up the situation, I said, "My friends call me Josh."
He grinned again. And blushed -- again. "So -- you are in first year --
too?"
" `Fraid so. I'll need a little catching up -- coming in midterm."
"Did they assign you a tutor?"
"Were they supposed to? I asked.
"I guess maybe it depends on what your grades were before you entered. I
got one."
"I'm glad they are more casual in the barracks." I said, seeing his
attire.
"We can wear what we want in our cells. Some guys - " he blushed deep red,
"Don't wear anything."
When he said that, his fly opened slightly and I could plainly see that
even though his voice was far from mature, he had a good matte of scarlet
hair in there. I couldn't see the obvious prop which was causing them to
open and now tent even more. He caught me looking and this time it was I
who blushed. He backed away and closed the door slightly saying, "Well,
guess I'll see you at mess." He closed the door quickly.
5:30 was 3 hours away. I was starved now, having missed lunch. Oh well.
I sucked it up and went back to my "cell", set my I-phone for a 2 1/2 --
hour wake-up call in case my cell mate didn't show, and laid on my rack.
When my alarm went off, I was again disappointed that my cell mate was
still not back from -- wherever he must be. Or -- maybe he had not arrived
yet? I shook my head awake and remembered that I saw his suitcase and also
that Rudy told me he was cool.
I got into the packages they gave me at registration, and retrieved the
khaki uniform -- everything from the black shoes to the white boxers that
Rudy was wearing. I pulled it all on in five minutes and then went across
the hall. Rudy opened the door. I asked him if I could follow him to mess
-- since I was clueless where anything was yet. He glanced back into the
room and said, "I'll be right back, Edward."
He looked left and right and almost jumped across to my room. I wondered
what he was doing. "We're not really supposed to be in the halls without
our uniform." He was still in his boxers -- and had lost the shirt. He
was as skinny, and his ribs were obvious.
I followed him into the room. He opened one of the closets and reached
around the corner, producing an iron and ironing board. "Take `em off!"
He said..
"I can do that!" I said, lying slightly. I'd never ironed a shirt in my
life.
"Not as fast as I can. And we don't have much time. We march as a unit to
mess! TAKE THEM OFF, Josh!"
I did as told and he quickly and deftly ironed the shirt first and handed
it to me. He pressed the polished cotton pants as quickly as it took me to
button up the shirt. When I had put them on, he said, "SIT!"
I gave up trying to figure out what he was going to do next, and started to
sit on the bad. He steered me away from the bed and onto the desk chair.
He reached under the bed and pulled out a shoe shine kit and opened the
black polish -- applying some to a rag and then spitting on the toe of my
shoe, with a circular motion, the toe soon looked like a black mirror.
"That's amazing, Rudy! I - "
"C'mon! Can't you hear the mess call?!!" I listened and heard a faint
tone. As I started to close my door, he dashed past me and pulled my
bedding taut, and deftly tucked in the sheet and cover to perfection. He
jerked me into his room. His cell mate was already gone. He threw on his
uniform, and then I followed as he ran outside. He stopped me and said
"Wait here." He ran to an obviously pre-assigned position in the
formation.
"SIR!!" I heard to my left and rear. I turned and a short stout boy was
standing at attention. As soon as he had my attention, he said, "SIR!
Please follow me!"
He did an about face and took two steps and stopped cold. I almost ran him
over. "TEN-HUT!" was the command given over the loud speaker. "HARCH!"
With two boys at the sides of the unit, each with special stripes on their
epaulettes, the group started to march in perfect step. I saw Percy,
Crabbe and Goyle (Perfect names that the barracks monitor had given them!
FUCK! What was his name?!!) and they looked at me with hatred in their
eyes.
The boy who I was following had not started to march yet, and when the unit
had all passed us, he stepped neatly into line behind and exactly in the
middle of the group. It was then when I saw Nathan -- (NATE! That's it!
Nathan -- something!) He saw me and winked. I felt blood fill all the
capillaries in my cheeks. I started to grin and he frowned. I got it.
Then I noticed I was not in lock-step with my leader and I fixed that.
When we got to the mess hall, the order to fall out was given and all chaos
broke out as friends gathered with friends. There was a seat next to Rudy
and he motioned me over. I started that way, when my escort grabbed me.
"This way, SIR!"
He led me to a different table from the others, and everyone looked older.
I was shown to one of two chairs. I sat in the chair he selected for me.
"Good evening Cadets!"
All conversation stopped.
"Good evening SIR!" Came the resounding response from everyone in the
room. As all eyes turned to a dais at the head of the tables. There stood
an extremely handsome, middle aged man, dressed in a senior officer's
uniform, his hat under his arm.
"We have amongst us several new cadets. I expect that you will treat them
with respect and assist them when necessary -- as they need it.
Mr. Willows has an announcement."
Nate WILLOWS! That's his name!
"Good evening Friends. It seems that there was an altercation in the
barracks 21 ante-room. It will be expected that a mop will clean up the
stench before tomorrow morning." He looked directly at Percy, Crabbe and
Goyle. "As usual, we operate on the honor system and will not be reminded
again. Bon apatite!"
I watched as Nathan -- NATE! -- left the dais and walked to the side of it
and then -- directly to the open seat next to me.
He smiled and asked how my afternoon went. I told him fine and thanked him
for his help. He seemed to be protecting me -- or something -- when others
directed queries my way. "He's new. Let's give him a few days to get his
water-wings on."
When mess was over we marched back to the barracks where I assume most were
expected to study. I wondered about a tutor to bring me up to speed.
"Yeah, I think I have just the boy!" Said Nate. "But now, I have some
other newbies to get settled who arrived during mess. When I get them all
tucked in, maybe we can talk." He turned then came back. "And by the way
-- get those shoes shines. There are some guys on our floor who need some
extra cash, if you don't like shining shoes, etc. And if you can afford
it, I know that Mr. Chambers takes pride in his shine."
"Mr. Chambers?"
"Rudy. Rudy Chambers. Across the hall from you. He can use the extra
coins."
He ran up the stairs and I went toward my room. Still no room mate.
I read through my orientation documents and fell asleep at my desk. Long
day! I woke up when I heard a clatter out in the hall. I took off all my
clothes and climbed under the covers. I fell asleep again quickly.
I woke with a start. "Sorry," said a whisper. "I didn't want to wake you.
Are you okay?"
"Yeah -- when did you get in? I'm Joshua." I said groggily.
"So I understand. Good to have you in my room. How old are you anyway,
Joshua?"
"14."
"WHAT!??"
"Wha -- is that a problem -- how old are you?"
"I'm 16! Oh crap! I didn't -- um -- come here, Cadet!"
I stumbled out of bed, half awake, and over to my new mate -- apparently my
new upper class mate's bed. I was too tire and groggy to notice that I was
naked - - or that part of me was at attention.
"WO!" Said the other boy. Does this mean I get to call you Josh?"
In the dim light I focused on him. The first thing I saw was his naked
upper torso. He had his boxers on and his tight six pack was clearly
visible even in the yard light streaming in the window. I took in
everything north of that from his defined pecs, his nicely formed biceps to
his face.
"Nate!" I cried.
"Um -- why don't you kind of kneel here, so that thing is not in my face."
I did as ordered. "Josh, I'm afraid I messed up royally. You aren't
supposed to be in this room. I assumed you were at least 17. My fuckup.
I'm afraid you're gonna have to call me Sir and Mr. Willows -- outside the
room. And I'll have to call you Cadet or Mr. Black. But in here, I'm
still Nate. Got that Cadet?"
"Yes SIR! And -- um -- yes, you can call me Josh any time you want --
Nate!"
Notes: Well, another start! Whether or not I continue is up to what kind
of reception it gets. If you like it, write and tell me and just maybe we
will become great friends ...
Love, Steve
stevethomas535@hotmail.com